


Heresy

by jennygotfamous



Series: The Nature of Things [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Established Relationship, M/M, Power Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 17:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennygotfamous/pseuds/jennygotfamous
Summary: Sometimes Spike can recognise a need. Sometimes Xander needs it pointed out.This is semi-related to The Nature of Things. You don't necessarily need to read that first, but it does assume an established relationship.





	Heresy

**Author's Note:**

> First fic that's gotten beyond the concept stage in like... 5 years. Be a little gentle.

Something’s different about the boy tonight; his movements are a little too jagged as he stumbles his way down the stairs. I don’t know when my mouth opened but I’m pulling air across my tongue like its whiskey and I can feel every nerve ending snap to attention.

This isn’t a dance we’ve ever done before, but something tells me that he needs this. Almost as much as I do with the scent of him oozing through the space between us like molasses. I kick the footrest of that bloody hideous chair closed with enough force that it’s a gunshot and his eyes snap to my face.

“Harris.” I can hear the growl in my voice, but neither of us wants me to temper it. Not tonight. Not for this. 

“Spike. I-”

“Strip.” I expect him to balk a little. Mouth the words that all good boys and girls should when faced with the look I’m not even trying to hide. 

He doesn’t move for a second and I’m two heartbeats away from just shredding that dumpster fire of a shirt and then I see it; the smallest twitch of his fingers. Just enough that I know he’s trying to control the movement and  _ oh you beautiful, bittersweet boy. How long have you needed this for? _

I listen to the heavy thud of his heart trip its way through three breaths before I let an eyebrow creep up. Almost instantly the beat quickens and I drag another breath across my tongue. It tastes like  _ want _ and _ need _ and  _ desperation _ with just an edge of capitulation and  _ god _ I want to roll in it. 

His hands have the tiniest tremors in them as they move over the buttons of that monstrosity of a shirt I  _ really _ need to burn. All thoughts of arson disappear when he starts handing me that sunshine skin by inches with every piece of fabric he strips away. He’s down to his boxers and standing in front of me, somehow making it seem like he’s looking up at me even though I’m the one sitting.  _ Clever boy _ .

“Didn’t say stop.” 

I can see the war in him. He wants this but needs to fight. Needs the hiss and spit of a submission taken as much as the peace of a submission given. This time his fingers don’t twitch and I know my face isn’t entirely smooth when I reach out to curl a finger into his waistband. 

His body jerks with the force of shredding fabric but it’s his eyes I’m interested in. Irises lost in a snap of lust as he sinks to his knees without direction.

“Beautiful boy. You need this, don’t you?” He’s got the slightest shake in his breathing, eyes caught on mine like this is thrall and not something far more... base. 

“Please. Spike.” We may not have played this game before but we’re both caught in it now, aren’t we, pet?

I can’t help but drag one hand up to his neck to feel that fluttering pulse while the other is at the buttons of my fly. While I’m watching him he’s watching my hand like it’s the last piece of sodding chocolate on earth, and right now may as well be because this is more than just fucking, isn’t it you sweet boy? This is a balance we’ve been skirting around for months. This is the desperate yearning for a kind of home you’d never utter to those friends of yours. This is a dark and sordid heaven. And you  _ crave  _ it.

I don’t bother trying to hide the hiss when I get the last button free, nor the smirk when the sound makes his lips part. There’ll be no hiding anything tonight. Not for either of us.

His pulse is thumping against my fingers so strongly I’m surprised I can’t see them move but he waits, trembling and huffing out gusts of air hot enough that I can feel the warmth wash over me even with the space between us. 

My own breath squeezes out at the delicious twist in my gut when his eyes track upwards an inch at a time until he’s looking at me with nothing but pupil and need. “ _ Please _ .”

I want to draw this out for eternity. His shoulders have already lowered from that permanent hunch and his voice is more certain than it’s been in months but need - his  _ and _ mine - drags me on. 

I tangle my hands in the hair behind his ears and pull him down, growling at the furnace he wraps around me while his eyes never waver. His hands are braced carefully on either side of my knees and he moves only as far as I move him. Heaves oxygen through his nose only when I let him.

“You need this, don’t you?” We both know I don’t expect him to answer with words as I move his head just enough and I growl again at the feel of a brand-hot tongue wriggling against me. 

The demon in me is crowing in delight and I push down hard enough that I feel him fighting against his body’s natural reaction. His face shows a glorious peace even as his eyes tear up with the effort needed to suppress the involuntary heave. I pull him back just enough.

“Thank you. Spike. Please.” The way he says my name is benediction and blasphemy. The bliss on his face when I pull him down again - pushing just enough that he can fight past his own reactions - is stunning. 

“I see exactly what you need, pet. How desperate you are to sob around my cock. To let the drool run down your chin because you can’t swallow fast enough and it’s not up to you, is it? Don’t  _ want _ it to be up to you. Just want to open up and let me shove as far down that honey throat of yours as I want.” The words may have been for the boy but bollocks if describing the man on his knees didn’t get to me just as much.

The combination of his moan and the sordid  _ glug-glug _ of wet flesh pushing into wet flesh is the perfect kind of filth for both of us. His eyes are bright; a beautiful combination of focused and unfocused. Here and utterly gone. I push him a little more, let my hips twitch upwards and  _ bloody hell  _ his nose is just brushing the skin on my stomach. A tiny hot-cold brand I’ll feel for days. 

I can see those fingers twitching again out of the corner of my eye. Feel the tremble in the back of his neck when I hold him right there and force him still, but he doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t  _ want _ to. Another half beat and the shudder breaks - moves through him like the dying breath of a fever. The last inches of hesitation drain out of him. He looks like he’s seen heaven and my fingers itch with the need to turn his face into words.  _ Obscene rapture overlayed with pure now. _

Gentle tug backwards and he whoops in air through his nose. The tiniest smile plays on the edges of his lips. I’m not sure he even realises it’s there. The  _ want _ that’s been clenching at my spine since his foot hit the bottom stair crowds in all at once and demands payment. 

He sees it the same moment I feel it, fingers moving to grip my hips; half urging half holding on because there’s nothing  _ still _ about us now. This is carnal. 

I feel the white-hot crest slide from me to him in a chain reaction. Minds gone in a rush of white noise and black edged vacant stares. The words echoing in the silence are my own.  _ Beautiful  _ and  _ foul _ and  _ Lucifer’s child _ and  _ sublime perfection _ all wrapping together against the neck of a brown-eyed boy softly shaking in my lap and how did I not know the world could turn on a single heartbeat?


End file.
